by Rick Young | Feb 24, 2022 | Poem
Looks like we’ll live through another war.
Keeping peace since Little Boy’s been what life’s for.
Defending Ukraine is a subtle task.
Avoiding nukes now is all we can ask.
A madman autocrat is on the move,
a bit east of where Hitler got his groove.
There’s talk of cyber war and stopping trains.
It’s crucial to weigh losses versus gains.
It’s world war if Russia moves further west.
Unlock your shelter and pray for the best.
Once NATO troops enter into this fray,
we’re on the precipice of judgement day.
We faced apocalypse in sixty-two.
Sixty years later comes this bleak redo.
by Rick Young | Feb 23, 2022 | Poem
“Let him reign in Ukraine.”
Orange praise for pal Vlad’s brain.
Rise, autocrats of the world.
Now your flag has been unfurled.
Democracy is on the slide.
Four more years it would have died.
Putin’s troops now pointed east,
lumbering, here comes the beast.
Spectre of an old world order,
troops amassed on Russia’s border,
harkens back to sixty-two,
back to Cuban missile stew.
Biden is no J.F.K.
This is real war, not cosplay.
Ukraine’s president, a comic,
stands upon a stage atomic.
NATO, Plato, all involved,
question how this can be solved.
Meanwhile, tanks and guns move in.
Wait for carnage to begin.
by Rick Young | Feb 18, 2022 | Poem
A thousand battered kegs
floated in the bay.
It was a holiday
and the rats were jumping ship.
Talk of treason had turned
to suggestions of war.
Every machine sounded of planes.
Thunder was guns
and then night drew in.
On next morning’s map,
we had been eliminated.
Harbor islands had become volcanoes.
The waves bore shrapnel
and shredded uniforms.
The holiday was blamed
and next time we were told
to kill all celebration.
by Rick Young | Jan 17, 2022 | Poem
Being kind and gentle
is not experimental.
No. It is just a state
we all could imitate.
Who knows?
Perhaps it might catch on,
and hatreds, woes
may all be gone.
In a world more civilized,
to look into another’s eyes
just may be the needed start:
universal change of heart.
by Rick Young | Jan 15, 2022 | Poem
In times of stress and sorrow, times when I feel alone,
I don’t look towards tomorrow, I simply pray to my phone.
In times when I need uplift, when I could use a pet,
I pass by fur and, in a blur, look up cats on the net.
And when I’m seeking contact, I need not take to the streets.
I just sit back and hover, with my thumbs texting out tweets.
I haven’t seen a face in years, except upon a screen.
All I need to live on gets delivered, sight unseen.
I feast on remote teaching, remote learning, on-line fun.
I play for hours at Candy Crush, until I’m sure I’ve won.
I’ve found an app that lets me look at sunlight when I’m down.
There are surveillance cameras that show what goes on in town.
At day’s end, my phone’s on my pillow, whispering goodnight.
My only friend, until the end, is never out of sight.
